Lead to Love
by hisviks
Summary: Armed with a trusty set of questions Eric goes to confront Sookie and insist they talk out whatever seems to be between them. Could be considered canon (except I'm not much of a canon-fetishist so it won't be accurate) and can be inserted anywhere from the moment Eric is aware of what happened during his period of amnesia. E/S – HEA – and all that other jazz… (Short story) COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1 - Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Please note that I don't own anything pertaining to the universe of SVM and True Blood created by Charlaine Harris and HBO. Any recognisable characters, story lines and/or dialogue belong to them.

 **Description:**

 _Armed with a trusty set of questions Eric goes to confront Sookie and insist they talk out whatever seems to be between them. Could be considered canon (except I'm not much of a canon-fetishist so it won't be accurate) and can be inserted anywhere from the moment Eric is aware of what happened during his period of amnesia. E/S – HEA – and all that other jazz…_

 **Prologue - Questions**

Her brows furrowed as she took in the sight of the exceptionally tall vampire through the dusty screen door. Frustratingly, he was even handsome through the soft-focus haze provided by the mesh in the moonlight.

"Eric? What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you."

Sookie rolled her eyes, naturally he wouldn't offer her much insight as usual, and with a harrumph, she opened the screen door to take a better look at what seemed to be sticking out from under his armpit.

"What's with the newspaper?" she laughed with her discovery of the unidentified object. For whatever reason it did, however, make perfect sense to see two relics of the past standing side by side at her door.

"It's why I'm here," he replied with a grin before gesturing his free hand to move a lock of hair off her face. She instantly stepped back with a jitter before there was a meeting of skin, the brief moment of levity dissipating instantly as they both fell into a contemplated silence, each feeling guilty for presumption and subsequent rejection.

"Come in, I guess," she whispered with a wave of her arm, eyes still evading his when it seemed neither of them were set on moving from their impasse otherwise.

Rather than positioning himself leisurely on her floral sofa, he pulled out a chair at her kitchen table. "That serious, huh?" she questioned in regard to his choice of seating while popping in the obligatory-proffered bottle of O-neg. He'd take one polite sip in her presence and dumped the rest while she wasn't looking. Well, he assumed Sookie knew full well that the contents of the bottle ended up in the bottom of the sink each and every time, but the continued pretence of civility and manners gave her a point of comfort around the man who usually kept her on her toes.

"I suppose," he replied tersely while unfolding the newspaper and finding the page ornamentally decorated in pink highlighter. Sookie didn't really want to question whether it was meant to be decoration or a parade of fangs on a string. She'd preferred to think it was the former, but knowing Pam it was most likely the latter.

"Pam want you to buy her something again?" she asked, noting it was part of the Fashion & Style section of the newspaper.

"No. She suggested we take this quiz and I'm inclined to agree."

"You came here so we could take some Cosmo quiz?" she balked.

"This is the _New York Times!"_ he protested, his voice rising in volume with supposed indignation. "It's based on scientific evidence. Just do it already!"

Hurt travelled across her eyes, forcing him to rein back the temper she always threatened to unleash around him with her obstinate behaviour that seemed to be custom only to him. "I'm sorry," he spoke in a softer tone. "Give it a chance, read the article at least."

She continued to stare at him sceptically and he wondered if she'd ever regard him with any other stance. _Well, when he wasn't unintentionally hurting her feelings_. With a sigh of relief, _his_ , her eyes finally fell obligingly to the article in question.

'36 Questions That Lead to Love,' she snorted, wearing her identical mask of scepticism once again. At least he could pride himself on the fact that it wasn't directly aimed at him for a change. _Take that, New York Times!_

"Eric, taking some quiz isn't going to make me fall in love with you," Sookie continued, moving her hands to close the newspaper and send him on his merry way. She had things to do, after all. _Like cleaning. Like laundry_. _Like…_ Even she had to admit her life was an utter bore if it wasn't being overhauled by the psychotic chaos the Supernatural element brought to it.

"Sookie," Eric pleaded, stalling her hands' intended movement of ending his plans for the night to leave the paper spread open between them. "This isn't about falling in love with me. It's about knowing what you want."

"I already know what I want," she bit back, pulling her hands from underneath his and finding them annoyingly smudged with black ink, and immediately set to washing them. She was about to ask him for the third time that night to leave already. Manners had, however, inhibited her before, but she really felt like doing that laundry and cleaning now, and hoped the third time would be the charm. Instead it was his charm that axed attempt number three of banishing him as he stood holding a towel for her to dry her hands. His talented fingers, and oh, how she loathed to admit that, especially now when they so diligently massaged down each and every individual digit of her own, relieving her of aches she hadn't even been aware were there.

"You've made yourself pretty clear," he continued with her hands locked in his, the thinly worn hand towel between them. "I just want to know why. Some couples found it was best to break up after, but at least they knew why."

"We're not a couple," she stated acerbically, her previously relaxed stance stiffening with the collective bile that rose with her statement.

"Pairs of participants, then?" he amended, which somehow seemed to please her greatly. She glanced upwards once more expecting to see that annoying triumphant grin he always seemed intent on wearing around her, but found no evidence of it this time.

He hid it well, but she knew him well enough now to spot the deep-seated hurt behind the mask he wore. "Read it, and then make up your mind?" Eric requested once more. She nodded with some reluctance and with that, her hands were released and she sat down to read the actual article.

It wasn't a Cosmo quiz, far from it. In fact, the premise seemed simple enough. Thirty-six questions that they would both answer honestly to and they would end with four minutes of silence where they would just stare into each other's eyes. Eric hadn't lied, the title was indeed misleading, it wasn't a guarantee that led to love, and though the introduction did allude, it was possible with a complete stranger. She was a little surprised that Eric actually wanted to do this, to be this frank and open with her when his responses had always to her been so measured.

"Wait!" she protested with a flash of anger. "This isn't fair! You're just springing this on me when you've already seen these questions and probably prepared your "for humans appropriate" answers!"

This time the sigh that escaped him was laden with utter exhaustion, something Eric was unaware of a vampire being able to experience until he met her. He waited for the red in her face to deflate, however enticing it always was, determined to do this in a cool, calm, and collected manner. _Much like himself after all._

"Pam was of similar thought," he answered only moments before she started with that incessant foot tapping. "I haven't read the questions so that it would be fair to us both. I'll dampen down the bond the entire time."

The scepticism was back again, his shoulders sagging with the sighting. "Call Pam," Eric tried with something akin to a congenial tone while thrusting his phone in front of her with the force of his true annoyance, the number already dialling. "You seem to trust her more than me."

She shook her head, "No, it's okay." With earnest eyes she dared look at him again and whispered, "I trust you."

Pride surged through him, but it was quickly overruled by Pam's demanding tone on the phone, Sookie apologising profusely for disturbing her meal, and Eric firmly placed at blame by both women.

"Just do it, Sookie," Pam insisted while muffling the whining tone of her dinner.

"Have you become a spokesperson for that athletic brand now?" Sookie joked, the thought of taking the quiz, and doing so earnestly, making her more nervous by the minute with the potential impact. Unlike Eric, she _had_ taken a quick glance at the list of questions.

"Not pink enough," Pam drawled back with a scoff. "Give him a chance, Sookie, he's really trying. The least you could do is to offer the same."

"Okay," Sookie conceded and without further ado, the line was disconnected. She handed the phone back to its owner, her hand resting longer in his than necessary. "Where do we start?"

* * *

 **A/N: This is a four part short story that I wrote over the summer holidays, it sparked my interest after reading an article about the questionnaire in The New York Times that came forth from research done by psychologist Arthur Aron who succeeded in making two strangers fall in love in his laboratory, though it's used as an exercise for existing relationships too for various reasons. There's theory to back it all up and in my mind the rational part of Eric would be attracted to that along with eliciting some responses from an unruly Sookie that** **weren't coerced from him for a change. I did always feel a lot could be solved in CH's world if these two just had a good chat now and then.**

 **I've included the links to the article and the set of questions on my profile for those who want further reading (or for those who dare; try it out for themselves).**

 **In the next three chapters Sookie and Eric will be working their way through them and I wrote their answers as I read through them. This was part detour, part writing exercise while working on my other on-going stories so it's a little different than my usual fare. The prologue is a bit of a tease of what's to come but I'll be curious to hear your thoughts as always!**

 **Much love to the beloved msbuffy for editing, and not even blinking when I overloaded her with a shit ton of stuff post vacations.**


	2. Chapter 2 - Set I

**Chapter 2 - Set 1**

"Who goes first?" Sookie asked before stating outright, "I don't want to go first."

"Fine," he grit out, seriously contemplating how useful this exercise might be. "Ask away. Next question, you answer first."

She smiled, _triumphantly,_ before becoming somewhat deflated at the sight of the question. It wasn't all that exposing or hard to answer. She briefly considered demanding to go first, but figured she was already pushing the vampire to his limits while he sat impatiently waiting on her, tapping his fingers on the wood of her dining table.

"Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?"

"Easy," he answered, becoming somewhat more at ease himself with the type of question. "Dracula."

"Oh," Sookie said, not really all that intrigued or surprised by his answer. Without having ever spoken to Eric she would have been able to answer that, considering the amount of fan paraphernalia Fangtasia was decorated with dedicated to the infamous Impaler.

"Your turn," Eric nudged. "Same question."

"Gran, I guess," she replied, holding her lips tightly after.

His face softened somewhat, feeling slightly foolish for answering with so little thought before. Perhaps he too should have chosen someone from his long lost past, his father or mother perhaps? Becoming even more annoyed, he realised the answer to that question should have been Sookie. He wanted to change his answer then and there until he noticed the melancholy that now surrounded her.

"You never told me what happened to her," Eric asked instead. Pain surfaced in her eyes, he supposed, with his appeal for her to share the details of her murder again, reliving it all over again. "I _mean_ , I know what happened, but you never told me. You never told me what it meant to you, what she meant to you. You never talk about her."

She blinked, partially to halt the tears that inevitably surfaced with her Gran's memory. "Gran was the only one who ever accepted me for who I am," she shared in a surprisingly level tone despite the emotions stirred. "She taught me what it was to love unconditionally. My parents, I mean they tried desperately, but I was always wrong to them. Not to Gran."

"I want to change my answer."

"Eric, you can't! No backsies."

"Give me this one and I'll allow you one somewhere else. Ask the question again."

"Fine," she huffed, arms crossing over her heaving chest. "Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?"

"Easy," he repeated before pulling her hand into his and squeezing it softly. "Adele Hale Stackhouse."

She'd fled to the bathroom with that, uttering something about human needs while yanking her hand from his, but he knew better. Bond muted, it didn't matter, he could hear and smell the tears, despite all the taps she had running to hide what she was experiencing. He'd called an annoyed Pam while hovering outside the firmly locked door, a flimsy lock that would be open to him in milliseconds, but he had understood her message clear enough, however, the female vampire and her intense study of Dear Abby offered little tangible advice while Sookie remained inside.

With her eyes rimmed red, the object of his affection finally appeared again. "She would have liked you," she whispered when he remained silent, unsure of what to say anymore. "She would have tanned your hide more than once for your leering ways, but she would have liked you. She would have liked you a lot."

"I would have liked her, too," he whispered in her ear when she settled into his offered embrace. "I'm sure of it. Would you like to be famous? In what way?"

"Huh?"

"It's the next question," he offered. "Unless you want to stop?"

"No, let's continue," she answered with a sniff. "That one is pretty easy to answer. No."

"Not even a little?" He probed, leading her to the sofa.

"Being 'known' as 'crazy Sookie' all my life is bad enough. Being a famous telepath hasn't brought me much joy either. I'd happily trade it all and just be a regular blip on the unknown."

"You could be famous for something else, something of which you're proud," Eric encouraged, disregarding his personal opinion for the moment that she _should_ be proud of her achievements as a telepath, especially the way in which she honed her skill in such a repressive environment.

"Nope," she answered back. "Is it so wrong of me not to want that?"

"I suppose not," he shrugged, not really caring either way. "I just think you wouldn't be you without that infamous fame. You're different..." She flinched, again, the word obviously triggering unpleasant associations when he meant it as a compliment, "What I mean to say," he amended, remembering some advice from Pam, "is that you're not like everyone else around here, condemning what doesn't subscribe to the norm out of fear of the unknown. You dare to have a different opinion, and there are not many who afford themselves that considering the personal cost. It's not a bad thing to be famous for."

She smiled, it was smaller than her usual wide grin, but he recognised it as a private smile she didn't offer to many and he regarded himself lucky to be the recipient of it. "Do I even need to ask you? I think I already know the answer, Mr. Fangbanger of the Year."

"Ask," he instructed with a flourish of his hand. "The answer might surprise you." She rolled her eyes disbelievingly before repeating the question, and was indeed surprised when he answered in the negative.

"You love the attention!" she accused. "All those fangbangers lining up for you night after night!"

"Hardly," he shrugged. "It's business, not pleasure. Well, most of the time."

"See!"

"It's convenience, that's all. I prefer respect," he continued with little apology of his dining habits, ignoring her little outburst. "Fame is easy; it can be engineered, bought, and traded. Respect is earned, it has more worth."

"Makes sense," Sookie agreed, reaching for the paper for the next question. He stopped her before looking her in the eyes intensely, and she briefly wondered if he was about to kiss her, but instead he offered sincerely. "I respect you. Very much. I hope you know that."

"I didn't," she answered with a poorly held breath that forced him to retreat from her personal space. "Thank you. Next question?"

"Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?" he read before answering. "Yes, I rehearse everything I say, it's imperative to survival."

"Even now?"

"Tonight? No."

"Why?" Sookie whispered, her fingers finding his again in an attempt to coax more out of him.

"If I offer you that, I hope you offer me the same."

She nodded before reminding. "This doesn't mean I'll reciprocate everything you desire."

"Of course not," he laughed. "I know you too well for that. So, are you a rehearser?"

"On the phone? Yes," she offered. "People have assumed I'm dumb all my life, the anonymity of the phone and a lack of their thoughts makes me try harder to prove that notion wrong. You and Pam are the only ones who can ever throw me off my game."

"Good to know," he grinned. For once she didn't mind the smugness of it all and laughed along.

"What would constitute a 'perfect' day for you?"

"Lying out in the sun? An entertaining book?"

"You're asking me?" He noted dryly. "I asked you."

"This is harder than it seems! What's your answer?"

"You haven't exactly answered yet."

"Fine!" she bit back defensively. "Want to know what my 'perfect' day would be? Waking up without my telepathy to a husband, breakfast in bed, the sunshine pouring in. He'd feed me bites between kisses and we'd make love after, then our perfect children, three, two girls and a boy, would toddle in. They'd smell like fresh baked bread and sunshine and load us with kisses. We'd go to a park or a zoo while they enjoyed every minute of it and never fuss over a thing. We'd eat dinner on the porch as a family and he'd do the dishes while I put the kids to bed. We'd watch the sunset from wicker chairs, and after we'd catch something inane on TV before falling happily in bed together. The end."

His distaste with the entire picture she had painted was apparent all over his face. She assumed his disgust was based on anything human and 'normal,' rather than the fact that in the entire narrative there was no chance to ever insert him into this fantasy of normalcy.

"Your turn," she demanded. He contemplated briefly, despite his earlier intent to answer with whether to simply state all the sexual desires he wished to endeavour upon with her filling the day, or rather night in his case, and then questioning himself whether that really was what he considered 'perfect.'

"You would come to me and you wouldn't hate me," he finally answered.

"You think I hate you?" She questioned with a discernible tremble to her voice.

"Resent me, I know for certain," he answered. "Hate can't be far off."

"I don't hate you," she denied. "I only resent you a little bit, and only when you deserve it."

"I deserve it all the time then?"

"Only when you're being an ass," she huffed before amending, "which is far less often than you'd think."

"Next question?" He asked, sensing she was becoming uncomfortable with having voiced that admission aloud.

"When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?" She asked.

"To myself, a very long time ago. As a human child, after my mother had passed. She was no longer there to sing me a lullaby at night, so I did instead. It drove my elder brother insane, so at some point I stopped."

"Will you sing it for me sometime?" she asked with a shyness that was unknown to him when it came to Sookie Stackhouse.

"Now?"

She shook her head. "Maybe after. When did you last sing to someone else?"

"Pam," he answered. "When she was newly turned, her hearing strengthened and it drove her insane at first. I'd relocated her to a quiet home miles from anywhere. I'd sing to her every night, increasing the volume ever so each time till she was able to sing along without pain. She has quite a nice voice. You?"

"In the shower this morning," she shrugged. "To Arlene's kids when I babysat them last."

The paper was tossed in his lap. "If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?" His face fell hard when he reached the end of it, the question standing symbol to the eternal dispute between any human-vampire relationship. If one wanted to stay together for a considerable length of time a change was needed, but that change often propelled the two apart in the end.

"Mind," she answered easily and somehow it didn't surprise him.

"Same."

"Really? I figured..."

"You figured wrong," he interrupted harshly, startling her in the process. "It's more burden than anything else to always be the same, but constantly having to reinvent yourself regardless."

"I can see how that would grow old," she quipped, glad to see him relax again while taking the paper from him once more. "Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?"

"Yes," he answered, offering little else.

"Too young," she answered for herself.

"No," he denied. "I won't allow it."

"Death really isn't about allowing, Eric," she pointed out. "It's a certainty, even for you."

"You'll be the death of me," he pronounced rather coolly, devoid of any romantic notion the statement usually inserted in films and the romantic novels in which she often indulged. "I will ensure you live the life you're meant to have and if I fail, I'll wait for the sun the first morning it shines on your grave, letting my ashes fertilise the soil that covers you."

"No," she whispered. "I won't allow it."

"Too bad, my mind's made up."

"I think we need to stop," she said, wiping away the tears that were falling for a sadness she didn't even know she possessed. "Your devotion is stifling."

"We should continue," he spoke in the same even, eerie tone in which he had just declared her death would be his. "We've come this far."

She glanced at the clock and was startled to see how much time they had already spent on the first few questions and, up until that reveal, had actually appreciated his frankness and discovering the hidden depth of him that he otherwise so closely guarded from her. "Ok," she whispered. "I'm going to get a glass of water, do you want anything?"

He shook his head and they soon returned to their former positions. Eric cleared his throat briefly, waiting for some signal from her to continue and with a nod, he did. "Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common."

He was surprised that she didn't instantly protest to the use of the word 'partner,' perhaps because it was written and he was, therefore, forgiven, but he did briefly consider whether she took no objection to it given it was a relatively modern term that distinguished them as equals rather than of belonging. A mental note was made to test it out in a different context to gage her reaction then.

"We both value loyalty," she started after thinking on it for a while. "Honesty, it counts for a lot for both of us. Even if you're selective with what you offer me, you won't lie to placate me."

"Just one more," he reminded, hiding the fact that her answers so far had pleased him greatly.

She quieted again, foregoing the superficial choices of the physical likeness of their hair or the fact they were both rather fond of Pam. "We know what battles to pick," she finally decided on before adjusting, "except when it comes to us."

"True," he agreed.

"Your turn," she urged while settling back into the sofa, figuring he'd take a while before offering his trio of answers.

He surprised her by rattling off three similarities with ease and little thought. "We understand passion, not just between the sheets, a drive that sets our determination in course, and we're both too stubborn to veer from the path on which we set ourselves. We know trauma and know that to survive that, it makes us better not weaker. We're selective with our hearts, but only because we know it makes the ones inside it more worthy of our affection."

"That's four," she pointed out with a pout.

"I could go on for longer," he grinned before offering a wink. "Another thing we have in common."

"I get it, I get it!" She threw out bitterly.

" _And_ we both like to win," he pointed out. "We'd rather die than admit defeat. We become defensive and immobile, gearing up for another fight instead, even if it means our end."

"Is that what this quiz is about?" She whispered with a sudden vulnerability. "The end?"

"That's up to us, isn't it?" He posed. "It can be the beginning or the end, but at least the battle will be fought."

"With a winner and a loser," she said bitterly, clearly unhappy with that thought.

"If we lose, we both lose," he offered simply. "Or we come out as winners."

"Together," she agreed, finding the first piece of true common ground that night and invigorating them both to succeed with the questions ahead. After all, they both liked to win. "For what in your life do you feel most grateful?"

"That after so long I'm still able to appreciate something new, that it hasn't all become mundane. That I can still find joy."

"I like that answer," she smiled, suddenly finding her own face had moved subconsciously closer to his. "You know what I feel most grateful for?" She breathed out. "You."

"Me?" He questioned somewhat taken aback, not for its validity, but rather the choice.

She nodded. "I'm not stupid, Eric, despite it being opportunistic of you to tie us together, you've sacrificed a lot for me too. You could have handled things differently, like most vampires would, but for whatever reason, you care enough for me to value who I am regardless of the telepath."

"It's more than _care,_ Sookie," he pointed out.

"Maybe," she retorted, not agreeing or disputing it either way. "It can't have always been that way from the start. You were that way from the start though."

"True," he admitted. "You were, after all, one of those novelties from whom I can still extract joy."

"Well, at least we keep thing entertaining for each other," she grinned.

"That we do," he agreed, pulling his arm around her shoulder and nudging her close. Without protest she rested against his chest while he dropped a kiss to the crown of her head. "If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?"

"It would have been nice not to be regarded as less than," she answered. "Though that's not really a conscious choice of how I was raised, I think, more an occurrence. I think I wouldn't want things to be swept under the rug, never to be spoken of again like they were all to maintain the status quo."

"What did they hide, Sookie?" He asked carefully, sensing it was more than her gift.

"Nothing," she answered back defensively before easing under his touch when she realised his tone hadn't been demanding, merely inquisitive. "I mean, obviously, not nothing," she sighed. "Do I really need to talk about it, Eric? This is emotionally exhaustive enough already."

"You'll tell me sometime," he stated before offering with a shrug. "Or not, whatever you prefer."

"Maybe it'll be the answer to a different question tonight," she mused while playing with the ends of her hair. "How about you?" She asked, turning her gaze on him instead, happy to get out of the hot seat for now. "What would you change?"

"Tough to say, I've had two rearings, so to speak, as man and as vampire."

"So do both," she encouraged. "What would you change about your human childhood?"

"Nothing."

Sookie frowned before letting it go since he did seem genuinely happy with the thoughts of his first childhood. "What would you change about your early vamp years?"

His expression grew dark instantly; it was startling to see the stark contrast occur so quickly, Sookie, in turn, became hesitant about the answer she would receive.

"Everything," he finally offered. "It was not pleasant, perhaps, like you, it will be the answer to another question."

She nodded, glancing down at the next question. "Perhaps we should skip this one; it'll take forever with a life as long as yours." He looked at where her finger was tapping, ' _Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible_ _,'_ and was inclined to agree. "I'd like to hear your life story though. I can give you a condensed version of the same years for me."

"That should work," she agreed and started to regale her earliest childhood memories to the moment in time they first met. He seemed genuinely intrigued, despite how small she had always considered her existence, and she soon discovered that until they met, Eric's life had not been all that interesting in the same number of years until she appeared in it.

"Last of this set," Eric noted, coming to the twelfth question. "Are you still good to continue after? I know it's late."

"I might need some coffee," she smiled. "I'd like to finish this though."

"If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?"

"Supernatural strength or something like that," she answered. "I'd like to be able to defend myself, just so I could. I'm tired of being at the mercy of others."

"I could fix that," he grinned with a hint of fang. "You and me in a delicious pile of soil for three nights…"

"You make it sound so appealing," she retorted with palpable sarcasm. "I knew I should have just gone with flight. Always been rather jealous of that. I'd love to see Bon Temps from above for a change; I'd be so high up and away from all the voices that I always have to keep out."

"I could take you now," he offered. "There isn't that much to see, a metropolis is more impressive."

She was about to say no, but found herself questioning why she would. "I'd like that," Sookie answered, standing up from the couch.

"It's beautiful," she whispered as if someone would overhear them from their hovering position. She was fortunate that the sky was clear and the moon was nearing a fullness to provide some light in the night. "So what would you like to add to your already envious set of abilities?"

"I'd be a telepath," he answered softly, keeping the bubble they had created intimate despite being in the wide open.

"Why?" She asked with genuine surprise that anyone would willingly want her curse.

"Firstly because I'd know what it is you suffer each and every day," he spoke with a hint of calculation, revealing he'd given this some extensive thought, probably long before this questionnaire. "Secondly, so I would know exactly what to say, what to do, to make you love me."

* * *

 **A/N: So how'd they do with their first set of questions? There's just two more sets to go and then we'll see if Eric gets his way ;)**

 **Underlined questions are the original questions from the study and they certainly do not belong to me.**

 **Many thanks to msbuffy as always.**


	3. Chapter 3 - Set II

**Chapter 3 - Set II**

"Why is this conquest so important to you?" She demanded. His confession was doing nothing to deliver him the affections of the telepath in his arms as he thought it would. _She was supposed to swoon, damn it!_ She should fall into his arms, in which she was already advantageously positioned, and deepen an already deep kiss. Instead she was struggling in his hold of her, and had they been on the ground there was no doubt in his mind that she'd be running away now. "You're mine! Just accept it already!" He growled at her rejection of his affection. _Why the fuck did she always have to make it so hard!_

'I'm not, damn it!'

"Hold still!" he commanded in a tone harsher than intended while she continued to squirm. "It's a long way down," he adjusted with a gentler tone and she managed to calm a little with that choice truth.

"Take me down!"

"Hold still and I will."

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

They didn't speak after that till he safely deposited her back on solid ground. He hovered by the threshold of her door, not in fear that she rescinded his invitation physically, but whether he was still wanted there at all.

"Let's just finish this and be done with it," she said, not noticing his moment of hesitation at all before plopping back onto the sofa with the paper in hand, "If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future, or anything else, what would you want to know?"

He leaned against the door frame, arms wrapped defensively to his chest, "Nothing," he spat out with distaste for the question. "It reeks of witchcraft and I want nothing to do with that ever again. Are you giggling?"

"Sorry," she snickered, doing nothing to falter the laughs at his expense that had emerged without thought on account of his petulance. Despite his age he could be so young sometimes. "I just never see you that mad over something so ridiculous."

Not in any mood to revisit the induced state of amnesia, he simply raised his eyebrows before demanding she answer the question, too.

"No," she said with a shake of the head. "I wouldn't want to know any of it either. In the end, you'd be living towards that instead of simply living. Self-fulfilling prophecies and all that. I'd rather go with the unknown."

"Agreed," he nodded before coming to sit by her again. "Is there something that you've dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven't you done it?"

"Travel the world," she offered hesitantly. "Lack of money and the telepathy make that rather hard. Don't," she instructed with a raised finger when she knew he was about to offer to take her anywhere, and if she refused to go with him that he'd probably just offer her the money instead. She wasn't interested in either from him. "Your turn, what have you dreamed of doing for a long time?"

"This," he offered, swooping in and pressing his lips against hers, a familiar swipe of his tongue against her bottom lip instantly prying her open to his coaxing tongue. A little moan escaped her, then him, until she had to pat against his chest to let her up for a much needed intake of oxygen.

"Why didn't you do that before?" She asked once her lungs had re-inflated.

"You know why," he said pointedly. "It's only a matter of moments before you turn on me."

"Well, you can't just do that and expect me not to react! We're not together!"

"Why not? Why can't you just be for a moment?"

"I don't know!" she cried out in frustration, tears soon prickling the corners of her eyes. "I wish I could! I wish it could all be that simple, that I could just feel one thing for you! You're not simple!"

"But I was without my memories?"

"Yes," she whispered, not daring to meet his eyes. His fingers tilted her chin towards him regardless.

"We come with a lot of baggage, you and I. It doesn't mean we can't offload some now and then, too."

She nodded, "Isn't that we're doing now?"

"Perhaps," he mused, "or perhaps, we're only adding to it."

"I guess we'll know by the end of the night," she sighed. "We're almost halfway there."

"Go on."

"What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?"

"Becoming a Maker," he replied after some thought. "Yes, becoming a Maker."

"Really?" Sookie questioned, despite his own affirmation.

"It's very rewarding," Eric offered. "I'm very proud of her."

"I know. It's just..."

"It's just, what?"

"It's so human," she replied. "You're a proud pappa!"

"I was very proud of my human children, too," he said, ignoring the mirth she seemed to be relishing in over his answer. "Unfortunately, I never got to know how they grew up."

"Sorry," she whispered, her hand coming to rest on his forearm. "With you as their father they must have turned out great."

"You mean that?"

"I do," she answered warmly, surprising even herself with the found conviction. "I always thought in my fantasies where we're all human and there's no such thing as the Supernatural that you'd make a great father to my..." He regarded her carefully with her sudden swallowing of words.

"Sookie?"

She remained silent, despite the coaxing eyes that demanded she finish her sentence. "Sookie, the husband that feeds you breakfast in bed in your fantasy, is he me?"

"Yes," she whispered against her upturned knees, not all too comfortable with letting _him_ know that, however, knowing he would think it whether she denied it or not, she figured acknowledging the truth was best this once. "Maybe I should answer the question now, what was it again?"

"Your greatest accomplishment," he reminded with a sly grin over her latest confession.

"I don't have one. Next question."

"Sookie," he sighed.

"Don't Sookie me! I don't, Okay? I have nothing to be proud of!"

"I can name five with ease," he scoffed. "You've saved my life and others many times over."

"That's just being a good person, it's not an accomplishment."

"Why do you find it so hard to see what is so admirable about you?" Eric questioned, holding her close as she once again threatened to flee the room, mumbling excuses about water and human needs, all disregarded by him as he blocked her exit. "Sookie, you are magnificent, and yet you allow the worst of what is said of you to shape the perception of yourself."

"Unlike you?" she spat. "Who will simply believe the most sycophantic thing said about him, whether it's truth or not."

"It's somebody's truth, so why can't it be mine?"

"I don't know," she admitted with her eyes drawn to the suddenly very interesting floor, until a crooked smile started to emerge, "I thought of one."

"Do tell."

"My greatest accomplishment is driving the Great Eric Northman to madness and back."

"Very astute," he grinned, loosening his hold on her. She didn't move to the kitchen for water or the bathroom for her human needs. She didn't even move from where he had pulled her to. "Also, very true. What do you value most in a friendship?"

"This," she answered before expanding. "Someone I can laugh with will always be my friend."

"That explains Pam," he noted dryly.

"It also explains you."

"I suppose it does."

He pulled her tighter to him, her upper body resting on his, relishing the warmth she offered. "So, friendship? What do you value?" She asked.

"The ability to be told the truth, to allow it to hurt, but only appreciating that person more for offering it."

"Good answer," she nodded. "What is your most treasured memory?"

"I'd rather not say."

"What happened to Mr. Truth?"

"I don't think you'd like the answer."

"Ugh," she complained with a scrunch of her nose. "Is it all gory and filled with blood?"

"No."

"Just tell me," she sighed. "I'll get over it."

"It was being with you, here in this house. When our entire world was just us."

"Oh," she breathed out. "A thousand years and that..."

He nodded and she gave him a quick peck, why she wasn't quite sure, probably for the same reason he had disclaimed his answer. "You're not going to like my answer either." His eyebrows rose expectantly and hesitantly she continued. "It was meeting Bill."

The growl was near deafening, despite that she didn't move from her position, instead using her fingers to run along his hair and chest to calm him down. "It wasn't about Bill, per se," she offered in explanation. "It was about discovering there were men out there that I couldn't hear. That I could love, that I could have sex with. It wasn't normal, but the closest I could get. That was a lot more than I had before."

"Too bad I didn't find you first."

"So competitive," Sookie admonished half-heartedly, though secretly she rather liked that about him.

"What is your most terrible memory?"

"I guess you'll be getting your answer after all," she sighed, her shoulders slumping with the weight of it.

"Means I'll have to answer, too," he spoke softly, pulling her closer in the process. Silence enveloped them, she played with a piece of lint on his shirt, and he fingered her hair absently, neither one really willing to speak.

"My uncle molested me," she whispered before letting silence befall them once more.

Instead of demanding every painful detail he offered, "My Maker abused me in any way possible; when he was done, he invited others to do the same. When they were done, he made me do it to others, and still I can't help but feel indebted to him." He paused, had they been in a film it would have been especially dramatic, but instead it was simply a weighed quiet before his tone fell to one of confession once more. "I came to enjoy it."

"Came?" She asked, needing to confirm that this was the past tense; that this was a lifetime ago, many lifetimes ago. Consciously, of course, she knew he was exceptionally old, mostly what she was seeking to sanction was that it stopped as long ago. Oddly, his own actions seemed of little consequence in that moment, despite the severity. It was his pain, one she knew intimately as well as her own, but not to the extent of his, that troubled her. What she had endured seemed almost trivial in contrast to him.

He nodded with a gravity she had yet to witness in him before he added, for her sake more than his. "Time brought me different insight."

"So there was never joy?"

He startled, stared at her for another uncomfortably long pause, disconcerted how the word he had chosen, 'enjoy,' was so different with the loss of two letters. Joy spoke of life, and that period of time consisted of a severe lack of lust for that, though lust itself was present in abundance it was geared towards humiliation and destruction. In its madness, it was the path to a slow death and only in the promise of joy, a promise of self without a limit of time was he able to sustain. "No, no joy."

"Next question?" she asked with glistening eyes, not failing to catch the relief in his with those words.

"Next question."

"If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?"

"Truthfully?" He questioned, and she nodded encouragingly, squeezing his hand for emphasis still a little raw from the previous question. "I'd take you away from here, not caring for whether you wanted to or not. I'd keep you with me till the end."

"Even if I hated you the entire time?" She asked, not even finding the energy to be enraged any more at this point.

"Yes, I'd rather have you with me, hating me, than not at all."

"I think we should stop now," she said through wet tears, putting as much distance between them as possible, hating the cold and collected tone he had taken over his admission of simply kidnapping her and who knows what else he would be willing to do against her will.

"I think that would be the worst idea right now. This is a conversation we need to have."

"You've given this a lot of thought," she noted.

"Yes."

"Why haven't you acted on it?" Sookie questioned with a steely resolve. In fact, she was quite proud it wasn't laden with petty accusation.

"I have time."

"You'd turn me against my will?"

"No," he replied. "For one, I have no guarantees how a hybrid would turn, and secondly I could stand your hatred for a year, but not an eternity."

"You're looking into it though? Aren't you?" She asked in a whisper.

"I plan ahead," he answered, not even bothering to deny it or be apologetic about it.

"I need a minute," she said, getting up and moving out to the back porch. She sorted through the laundry pile, piece by piece, in a far slower tempo than she would otherwise. Not until the machine was fully loaded and she heard the water running through did she lose her composure. Tears falling for the third time that night, her body shaking with the machine, and her hands clenched tightly to the sides in fear that her knees would give way.

She didn't notice him till he was already there with his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her up as her cries fell to sobs. "I've thought about it," he repeated. "A lot. I've never acted on it and I never will."

"Unless you knew you had a year to live."

"Yes," he answered, holding her even tighter as she threatened to collapse with his admission. "Would I have to though? If you knew I had a year to live and all I wanted was to have you with me, would you be so cold and say no, forcing my hand?"

"No," she whispered. "I'd give you that. Even knowing this, I'd give you that."

"Come here," he soothed while turning her around, placing her legs by his waist so he could carry her. He gently placed her on the bed they once shared, thinking perhaps it was best to leave now. He never could stand seeing her cry, and he was determined this was the last time _he'd_ make her cry, questions be damned. Perhaps she did know better and she was better off without him, she'd certainly be in far less pain.

"Where are you going?" She asked when the last of her tears had dried up and wiped away and he seemed to move towards the door.

"I figured..."

"Stay," she managed with some composure. "If that's the worst of it, it's not as bad as I thought. It doesn't make it any less difficult to hear what you're capable of."

"If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?"

"I'd sell everything I own. See the world; if I'd answered first I might have taken you with me as my guide."

"And now?" he queried with a slight pique to his tone.

"Now, I'd ask Pam," she answered with a hint of mischief. "Maybe you could join us at some point. _Maybe_."

"You do know how to pull the worst from me," he sighed, coming to lie beside her at her inviting pat. She turned on her side to really look at him. His beauty was startling, but it had long lost its initial intrigue. She'd seen the worst of him and the best. Amnesia had rid him of a lot of sin, but she had to admit that at his core he wasn't that different at all. Just more informed.

"Probably," she noted. "The same probably goes for you, but you also know how to bring out the best in me."

"You bring out parts of me I didn't know I possessed," he confessed in a whisper so low she almost didn't catch it. "You make me better than I am." The smile that came in response was bright enough to bask the room with light.

"What does friendship mean to you?"

"It meant everything to me in the past," she answered, almost forgetting they were still answering questions from a list. "I always thought it was the most intimate I could be with someone."

"The Shifter," he started before amending to the scorn that threatened, " _Sam,_ this is why he means a lot to you?"

"Yes," she answered with recognition, thankful that he seemed to finally understand somewhat her attachment to her boss. "Being my friend isn't easy," Sookie started to explain and he was quick to receive an admonishing glare for the small cry of recognition that escaped his lips with that statement. "I have to work extra hard for the friendships that I have and they aren't many. Tara's life is moving in a different direction, a husband and children are her world now. One I can never compete with. Arlene stopped being my friend when I started up with Bill and it's not really something I think we can mend, or is even worth mending. Gran was my best friend, that feels a little sad, but it wasn't."

"Are we friends, Sookie?"

"I don't know, Eric," she answered wearily. "I'd like to think so, but it's all so complex. Do you even have any friends?"

"Does Pam count?"

"Not really. No one who works for you either."

"Then, no."

"Doesn't that make you sad?" She whispered.

"I need trust," he offered thoughtfully. "I can't afford to trust anyone who is not connected to me by blood."

"We should be friends," Sookie stated firmly. "Even if at the end we decide whatever we decide, we should determine to be friends. You can trust me."

"I know," he whispered while tracing the side of her face with his hand. "I'd like to call you my friend someday. More if you let me."

She smiled encouragingly, nuzzling in his touch for a moment before her eyes fell to the newspaper between them. It was showing its creases by now, text smudging from their continued handling. "What roles do love and affection play in your life?"

"I love deeply," he stated simply. "I'm affected by little."

She wanted to demand more from him, knowing what he could offer, but she realised he had just said exactly what he could offer despite its brevity. She knew what he was capable of, she was just unsure if the statement stood true with the demands of superiors or power struggles. Where exactly she would fit in.

"I love too easily," she offered of her own accord. "I'm affected by everything."

"You speak in the present tense," he pointed out.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She retorted with an air of defence.

"I think it's a statement of the past _and_ that no longer holds true. I wouldn't be here practically forcing you to talk to me if that statement still applied. If you could love so easily, you wouldn't make this so hard. You wouldn't make it so hard on _me."_

She was about to contradict him till she paused to think, hating to admit that perhaps he was right. "Next question," she grumbled instead, purposefully looking the other way to avoid the triumphant grin she was most assured he was sporting right now. She wasn't wrong and he only proceeded to chuckle for added effect.

"Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items."

"You're always fun," she smiled. "Even through the worst, you crack a joke and keep me laughing."

"You make my life more exciting."

"I _am_ a bit of a trouble magnet," she snickered.

"True," he acceded. "It's not what I meant though, you give a new perspective. I'm in need of that now and then. I value your opinion."

She stared disbelievingly for a moment, wondering if he was kidding, but he remained dreadfully earnest. "Thank you. I'm sorry I don't always value yours," she offered. "I do appreciate that you always try to make the best of the situation with me in mind, even when you don't agree with my morals or ideas."

"You make it easy to look for the best of a situation. Your optimism, though sometimes misplaced, is contagious."

A small smile grew from her lips and he couldn't help but infect him as he responded, "You don't give up easy, it drives me insane when it comes to me, but it is an admirable quality."

"You're kind; you pretend you're not, but you're kind and it's not motivated by guilt. You just are."

His forefinger came to her lips, as if to silence her. "That stays between us," he warned with boy-like charm, revoking any actual threat with it, and causing her to smile wide against the finger. She motioned a key that locked her lips and still in mime tossed it away ceremoniously. A large yawn interrupted them, "Did we make it to five?" Sookie asked sleepily.

"Close enough," he decided for them both. "How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people's?"

"You already know about my childhood, it was better than some, worse than most." He nodded, encouraging her to continue with a soft stroke that traced her arm. "Jason is all that I have left. It makes me sad because sometimes it feels like we're drifting apart. I fight it so hard, but then I think isn't this what siblings are supposed to do? At some point we stop being those bickering kids and we should be adults."

"Never lose your youth," Eric offered. "Living by other people's notions ruins everything if you let it. Just be you."

"That makes sense," she nodded. "Tell me about your childhood."

"It was nice, different, of course," he answered. "We weren't as unbridled as children are today. Responsibility was bestowed on us when we were young, especially so for us as the Chieftain's children. We were the example and my mother was insistent that we held a high standard."

"Are you just eternally mischievous because you couldn't be as a child?" She giggled.

He grinned. "I said my mother insisted on it, I _didn't_ say she succeeded."

"That brings us conveniently to the next question, How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?"

"I loved her very much," Eric said with a pleasant glint to his eye. "She was very fierce, and scary when she needed to be, even to my father. She ran the household with an iron fist and the village when my father was away. She warded away plenty of raiders in his absence successfully, and we were never hungry."

"She sounds amazing."

"She was," he agreed.

"I want to change my answer," Sookie suddenly said.

"You haven't even answered yet," he chuckled.

"Not this question, silly," she said with another yawn. "The first question, my dinner guest."

"You want to meet my mother instead?"

She nodded. "I'd have to know her name though."

"Astrid," he offered. "It means divine strength, and she would have liked you very much."

"My mother wouldn't have liked you at all," Sookie confessed, the pain of her mother's apparent disapproval still present, despite the fact _she_ was not. "She didn't trust anything that was different. Including me."

"Sookie," Eric whispered, pulling her closer and crumpling the paper that lay between them further.

"She tried, Eric," she uttered between soft cries to his chest. "To her best of her ability, she tried; she just couldn't love me for what I am. She couldn't accept reality for what it was, for what it could be."

He resisted from uttering, "Like mother, like daughter."

"When I told her of my Uncle, she didn't believe me," she whispered, her head hanging in shame. "Gran was the first to believe me when I just moved here after their deaths. I was happy, Eric. It made me glad my mother was dead. What kind of daughter does that make me?"

"A sensible one," he offered, kissing the crown of her head. "You were a child, Sookie, freed from a situation you shouldn't have been in. You would have been happy about anything that made that go away. It doesn't diminish the love you have for her, even if she isn't deserving of it."

"Like your Maker?" she questioned, finding his eyes again.

"Very much so."

"It's late," she noted, diverting the conversation neither one really wanted to have at that moment. It was firmly in the past and deserved to stay there. "I have to work tomorrow."

"Do you want me to go?"

"No," Sookie yawned, his presence, though initially unwanted, bringing her comfort now. "Stay, at least for a bit. I'm just too tired to do any more questions. I need a nap."

"Very well," he said with little protest as she continued to settle herself in his embrace. He fashioned a blanket around them and turned off the bedside lamp when she quickly fell asleep.

Despite it being so long ago, it didn't take much for him to recall the song his mother had once sung to him. The lullaby he continued to sing in her absence till his brother put an end to it, after that he never thought he'd find need for it again. Staring at precious cargo in his arms he was glad he had now, even if all she'd ever be was a friend, at least he'd have that.

* * *

 **A/N: So are we getting there? One more set of questions after this, I'll try posting them sometime in the upcoming week. Thoughts welcome as always :D**

 **Underlined questions** **are the original questions from the study and they certainly do not belong to me.**

 **Countless gratitude to msbuffy and her stellar editing skills.**


	4. Chapter 4 - Set III

**Chapter 4 - Set III**

She woke to an empty bed, however, judging by the indentation beside her, he hadn't been gone for long. The sun wasn't up yet and she heard voices by her front door. It took little for Sookie to recognise the mind belonging to Bobby Burnham who clearly wanted to be anywhere but at her door.

"Whatcha doing?" She asked; surprised to find him awkwardly shuffling things in her kitchen when she was assured the dayman had departed.

"You should be in bed," he answered, making a clear effort to hide what he'd been working on behind him. "Please?"

"Fine," she huffed, not all that happy with the random mess he was creating in her kitchen, however, he'd said 'please'. She was still tired, barely having gotten a few hours sleep, making the appeal of the bed all the greater. The presumptuous vampire was probably filling her fridge to the brim with bags of donor blood, but she was simply too tired to care at this point. She fell in and out of a light sleep as soon as her head found the pillow again while she desperately tried to ignore the noises coming from the kitchen.

True to his nature, he was eerily silent creeping in. His void, however, betrayed him and despite his best efforts not to, he woke her. "What's that?" she asked with a squint.

"Breakfast in bed," he answered, jutting the tray out in front of him apologetically. "I can't provide for the sunshine, but I can do breakfast as long as it's not cooked. No children either, unless you'd like to adopt Pam?"

"I think I'll pass," she grinned while lingering on the smell of the rich breakfast pastries. "This is a bit much though. Do you have to go now?"

"No," he replied, coming to sit beside her. "I can stay."

"This doesn't mean we're…" she said, pointedly gesturing a finger between them and alluding to the rest of her fantasy 'perfect' day that continued with a bout of lovemaking post-breakfast.

"I figured as much," he chuckled. "Though I dare say I hoped."

"Of course you did," she snorted before tossing him the newspaper again. She sipped politely at the coffee before putting it back with a hidden grimace.

"Make three true "we" statements each. For instance,'We are both in this room feeling … '."

"Emotionally raw?" His eyebrow soon raised on his forehead before she amended, "Fine. "We" come from different worlds."

"I don't think that's a true 'we' statement," Eric disputed. "It's merely a stating of fact."

"What do you want me to say, Eric?" She bit back defensively. "We drive each other insane? We always feel wronged, as if the world is conspiring against us purposefully? We can barely make it through five sentences before arguing? It's all true!"

"Or, it's what you want to be true," he retorted calmly.

"How could you say that?" She cried out, any previous fatigue instantly dissipating. "Like I would want that!"

"Well, it certainly feels like it," he replied coolly, his head finding the headboard as he stared up at the ceiling. " _We are both in this room feeling_ scared. We're scared because we don't know how this is supposed to work. We're scared it won't work, and it scares what's left of us when that happens. We are scared to risk it all."

She moved towards him on the bed, coming to sit beside him on her knees. "It scares me how well you know me," she whispered.

"It's not just the bond," he sighed as her fingers found his to twine with. "I know you, what makes you tick, what buttons to push."

"And yet you push," she noted with a hint of disappointment. "Why?"

His face turned towards hers. "Because," he started. "Because in that moment I'm all you care about. For that moment I'm your world and even if it's for the wrong reasons, it feels right."

"I am pretty hard on you, aren't I?"

"That's putting it mildly," he chuckled. "I like to think you hold me to a higher standard than others."

"I do," she said with her head staring at their hands where they lay in her lap. "Despite your devious ways, I do consider you honourable, and it pains me when you're not."

"I'm not perfect, Sookie."

"I know." Her gaze came to find his again, fingers tucking away a few unruly hairs from his face. "My track record with other men," she paused for an extended breath before continuing, "it hasn't been good. Is it so wrong of me to want more from you?"

"No," he agreed. "However, is it fair to assume I'm the same? To make me pay for their mistakes?"

"Not when you put it that way, no," she sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," he spoke lowly before moving in for a surprisingly chaste kiss. "Next question."

She looked a little dazed with a single-squinted eye, she'd expected more, but was surprised at his restraint. "Complete this sentence: 'I wish I had someone with whom I could share … '."

"Eternity with," he answered before amending carefully, "or whatever lifespan equivalent."

"Is that something you always wanted?"

He shook his head, "Not really, but things change. I gained a new perspective."

She frowned after being a recipient of another chaste kiss. He knew her so well, and now Sookie wondered if she knew him at all. In that moment, all she could do was stare at him, dumbfounded. "So what do you wish to share with someone?" he asked when she remained strangely silent.

"My burdens," she answered without really thinking about it. Sighing with the thought that she now had to explain herself. "When you were here without your memories, it was nice not to be the only one responsible for everything, to share the load, the way you asked how my day was."

"I can be that again, Sookie."

"Can you, Eric, really? Can I be the one you put before everything else?"

"I don't commit easily, Sookie, but when I do, I take that seriously. I treat it with the respect it deserves."

"I believe you," she said softly before tapping on the next question.

"If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know."

"Telepath meet vampire," she shrugged. "Do we really need to answer that?"

"I don't think that's what's being questioned," he noted, though he had little to offer what was being asked. She took the paper from him to reread the question instead of accusing him that he read it wrong for a change. "I need space now and then," she said after contemplating long and hard at what would be an appropriate response. "I'm hardly ever alone in my own head so sometimes I need that. Sometimes I need to be left alone, but I need to know that you understand that. That you're not simply ignoring me, but knowingly giving me space."

"I need to be told things," he answered. "I don't always understand what's expected of me if it isn't chartered in a set of rules or customs that have shaped me for centuries. It's been a long time since I was human, and even then it wasn't the same. I need help understanding things now and then."

Sookie nodded sensibly, taking a sip from her juice, and smiling a little when she saw the next question, "Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you've just met."

"I like your spirit, that you let nothing stand in your way."

"I like your butt," she giggled with burning red cheeks to the perplexed vampire. "What? It said be honest, saying something you wouldn't otherwise say to someone you just met."

"I want to change my answer!"

"Oh, no, you had your chance! You only got one."

"Fine," he pouted, and that only seemed to infect her laughter more. "Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life."

"It involved me and Tara in a talent show with little knowledge of how short our outfits were, and that's all I'm gonna say."

"You'll have to re-enact it for me some time," he leered.

"Nuh uh, Mister! Besides," she huffed with flushed cheeks, "it's your turn."

He thought for a moment, "It's hard to embarrass me, but there have been some outfits Pam forced on me."

"Enough said," Sookie supplied with a shudder in memory of a certain aqua-coloured leotard. "When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?"

"In front of my Maker," he confessed, his closing fist tightening the tendons of the muscles of his forearm. "I can't remember by myself. In front of my Maker was the last time."

"You were witness to both tonight," she reminded of the many times tears had shed from her already, alone and in front of him.

He shook his head. "Tell your partner something that you like about them already. I guess this is a question for the strangers."

"We can make it about what we liked finding out about the other tonight," she proposed and with his nod, she supplied, "I like that you listen to me, really listen. You hear what I'm saying."

"I like that you allowed me to," he answered in return, his face hovering dangerously close to hers again.

"We're nearly at the end," she spoke softly, her warm breath landing on his cool skin.

"You're right," he mumbled, putting distance between them again wanting nothing more to reach that end, the paper firmly placed between them again as a boundary. "What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?," she read.

"Not a thing for me, you?"

"Anything that could hurt someone's feelings," she answered. "No jokes at the expense of another."

"Pam will be disappointed," he grinned. "According to her, that's the entire purpose of humour."

"It's a good thing she's not here then," she quipped. "Come on, we're nearly done."

"You're awfully excited to get to the end," he noted, wondering if he was of the same mind. Part of him wanted resolution, but another part of him didn't want this to be over yet. Despite the grief, he had thoroughly enjoyed being with her like this. "If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven't you told them yet?"

"I'd regret not telling you that I loved you, that I mourned the loss of you when your memories returned."

"Loved?" He whispered with a hint of disappointment. She nodded, not wishing to add any more pain with that confession.

"I wanted you whole, no matter the repercussions that had for me," she explained. "But just as often I think what it would have been like if we'd just run off. Start somewhere new with just the two of us."

"You did the right thing," he acknowledged. "It doesn't mean the other option is off the table."

"You're not _him_."

That statement silenced him and for the first time it became uncomfortable between them. "I love you just the same," he finally confessed, and the heavy breathe she was inhaling nearly caught dead in its track.

"I see that now. I also see that it's not a bad thing," she acknowledged, and for the first time that night she initiated a kiss far deeper than his chaste pecks had been so far. "I could love you again, if I truly ever stopped."

He smiled, though Sookie had seen him laugh plenty, she'd not seen this face of happiness since he lacked his memories. She cleared her throat, grabbing for the list of questions, "Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?"

"I've started over often enough," he shrugged. "Plus, highly flammable, I wouldn't risk it."

"That picture," she answered pointing to the portrait of her, Jason, and her grandparents in the back yard. He picked it up, observing it carefully. "When was this taken?"

"The summer after the death of my parents."

"I'd like to see you this happy more often," he noted with a lingering finger over her face in the photograph.

"Me too."

"Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why?"

"I survived through Gran," she sighed, somehow through the night it had become comforting to of speak of her, rather than her tragic death. "I know I'd make it through losing Jason, but it wouldn't devastate me since he's the last real family I've got left."

"Pam," he supplied unsurprisingly. "Knowing I failed her as a Maker would pain me greatly. I'd feel responsible and it would be long before I ever considered making another Childe."

"Last question; Share a personal problem and ask your partner's advice on how he or she might handle it. Also, ask your partner to reflect back to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen."

"There's this girl I like," he grinned. "I've made it clear to her in every way possible and she even likes my ass, but it seems that's all she likes about me and resists my undeniable charm. What would you do?"

"Mmmm," she pondered dramatically. "Have you ever considered letting her come to you? Or here's a novel thought, ask her out on a date?"

"I'll have to remember that," he grinned, his thumb caressing her cheek. "I'll ask her next time I see her. Your turn."

"I have trouble letting go, not being in control of the situation. I want to stop being the pawn in everybody else's scheme."

"You want control," he pointed out. "Unlike me, it isn't going to come knocking, ready at your will. You want it, you take it."

"You make it seem so simple-"

"It is," he cut her off. "If anyone is capable of it, you are, Sookie Stackhouse. You're capable of that and so much more."

"We're at the end," she whispered, startled how quick it had come.

"Not quite," he pointed to the final instruction. "Stare into each other's eyes for four minutes."

"Easy for you, Mr. No Need to Blink," she whined while he pulled her to his gaze. "Is this what it's like to be glamoured?"

"Shh, it's a silent four minutes."

Silent it was, for the first time intentionally that night. For the first time it wasn't uncomfortable, it was simply terrifying. Searching eyes roamed back and forth, what exactly they hoped to find wasn't clear to either of them. She contemplated letting out a little cough just to break the intensity of the moment, but instead all she managed was to close her eyes longer than necessary now and then.

The timer on his phone set off at exactly four minutes, though they continued to stare as with a swipe of his finger the interfering sound was silenced. In the distance he could sense the sun would start its ascent soon, but he couldn't care, the room was safe enough and nothing save the true death could possibly move him from his spot. The hold he held on the bond was relinquished and for the first time since it formed, they were completely in sync.

"What is that?" she whispered against his lips, the sensation that coursed through them feeling foreign to her, neither one knowing how they had come to close the distance between them.

"I did it," he replied hoarsely, his hands moving in her untamed mane of hair. "I led you to love."

 _-Fin-_

* * *

 **A/N: That really does spell the end for these two. I hope you enjoyed this quirky little detour of mine and I'll be reverting my attention back to my works in progresses. Thoughts welcome as always and an extra special thanks to msbuffy and her editing work on this!**

 **Underlined questions are from the original study and they certainly don't belong to me but I made good use of them :D**


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